A survey of Canadian cities in seven days: Edmonton

Wrapping up my stories of each Canadian city I visited during my seven day sprint across the country:

Wait, why am I in Edmonton?

Was I supposed to be in Edmonton?

Why is there even a flight between Edmonton and Calgary? The flight attendant sprints down the aisle, sliding cups of juice at us in the few minutes we're level in the air before we make the descent again.  There isn't even enough time to make a cup of coffee. This is one of the most irritating layovers for me, except maybe the Ottawa to Montreal flight. That's even shorter.

a survey of Canadian cities in seven days: Ottawa

Continuing my stories of each Canadian city I visited during my seven day sprint across the country:

When I arrived at the MacDonald-Cartier International Airport in Ottawa, I thought about how an airport never looks so welcoming and lovely as when you've come home for the first time in a long time.

The infamous rings of Jack Purcell Park...read the story here

my first Suzy Q doughnut

home-cooked meals by mama

But after a while, sometimes you find that home has changed and doesn't feel like home and soon you are writing about it like a tourist, in a blur of memories.

I got lost on my way to a party because I couldn't remember where things were. I had to consciously remind myself to look both ways before I crossed the road.

Crissi Cochrane performs at Fringe Fest

HIGHS performing at Fringe Fest

I went to a dance party at a jail bar that was advertised as a rehab pizza party. Because pizza was being served, which is a great idea. It is a bar that used to be a jail. The dance floor is the old gallows where people were once hung. Now people dance and eat pizza in the courtyard under the protective cover of a giant tree. Between the branches I can see the Big Dipper constellation. I am experiencing night time for the first time in months.

There is a performance by a band called Stakr - proncounced Stalker but made less (or more?) creepy by removing some of the letters. It consists of a big guy rapping at the top of his lungs while his partner works the beats behind him on a laptop.  The crowd loves this and keeps on dancing.  I try busting out my zumba moves on the dance floor.

The pizza arrives, and suddenly there is a giant mob descending on the cardboard boxes. 

I sit on the washing machines while I wait in line for the washroom. I listen to the other girls in line talk about where they can go for the cheapest hair cut.  They complain about having to spend $30 on a hair cut when they have short hair like a boys.  They say, maybe they should just give up and go to a barber.  I think about how it would be nice to have a hairdresser in Cambridge Bay.

After these parties, we often stand in the parking lot, some of our friends having drunk just enough to be filled with indecision. That lovely indecision stemming from having too many options, paralyzed with freedom. What do you want to do? Where should we go?

I found out that Ottawa has a new self-serve frozen yogurt bar.

Everthing is decked out in pink.  You have your selection of fro-yo and then you go to these seemingly endless buffet table of toppings. You pay for your gluttony by weight, and then you sit in a pink seat and watch the Simpsons on the big flat screen TV.  So basically it's heaven for adults who grew up in the 90s but still refer to themselves as kids (me).

I was overambitious

Speaking of bars, Ottawa also has a new brow bar. This is a different kind of bar, where you sit in a chair, and a lady who doesn't speak English pulls out your eyebrow hairs with a spool of thread, and then you pay her ten dollars for the painful process. I think this is a genius concept. Sometimes you have to leave home to properly fall in love with your hometown.

leaving Ottawa in an empty airport...time to shoot a Celine Dion music video?

a survey of Canadian cities in seven days: Toronto

Continuing my stories of each Canadian city I visited during my seven day sprint across the country:

Toronto is an assault to the senses for every Canadian that is not from Toronto. It's the biggest Canadian city. As an outsider, you are pretty much guaranteed to be overwhelmed every time. There is ten of everything. Two Korea towns. Millions of people. Cars everywhere, even in the suburban plaza parking lots. Traffic jams at midnight.

I have fallen in love with the pace of small town life, but I confess that even as I continue to live in Cambridge Bay, I often dream at night of going back to Toronto. In these dreams, I always have a limited amount of time and a burning desire to see everything while I'm there. Shopping on Queen West! Lounging at the Beaches! Soondubu chigae at Bloor & Christie! Ramen at Momofuku! Soju bars at Yonge & Finch! Plus dozens of friends I'd like to catch up with.  In my dreams, there is always a continuous theme of not having enough time to see all the things I want to do in Toronto. It doesn't help that I hadn't been back there in years.  Having moved to Nunavut, all of our trips down south are to Ottawa, and we usually just don't have enough time to make a side trip to Toronto.

This time, however, we made it happen. I had twenty-four hours in Toronto. There was no way - no matter how much sleep I was willing to give up - that I was going to have time to do everything, or really, anything, that I had been dreaming of doing. I certainly wasn't going to have time to see any of my friends, so I kept my presence in the T-dot a bit of a secret, slipping in under the radar.

The official reason we were in Toronto was to celebrate my grandmother's birthday.  The entire family came out, and I think she was pleased that we had all gathered for the occasion.  We met up at a Japanese-style Korean restaurant, one of those joints where the food that is served is inspired by Japanese cuisine but in reality is run entirely by Korean staff serving a Korean clientele, because Toronto is big enough to have those things.

A sushi boat

the "kids"

birthday girl

Shortly after this photo was taken, the birthday cake caught on fire.  My grandmother is no spring chicken, you know, and there were a lot of candles on the cake, which was made out of mugwort.  As the flames started and everyone started panicking, my grandmother reached her hand out in the most nonchalant manner possible and put the fire out with her own fingers.  She's so tough.

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family photo

After dinner, we went to a Korean karaoke bar at Yonge & Finch. With my grandmother.  Let me tell you something about my family: we love to sing.  Impressions of western-style karaoke seem to involve drinking several beers to gain the liquid courage to go up on stage and sing an old classic in front of a crowded bar full of strangers.  My family, we love to sing. We'll sing completely sober. In a private room. Korean karaoke style.  With lots of snacks, of course.

Well, if I wasn't going to have time to do everything while I was in Toronto, the one thing I wanted to do was hang out with my peeps (Koreans) in my place (Korea town).

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Afterwards, some of us younger folks went downtown to a club. Clubbing in Toronto is always a radically different experience than Ottawa and other smaller cities.  It involves walking through the clubbing district while barkers try to get you to go into their club. If one of them happens to be working for the club that you actually want to go to, you stop, pretending to be bored and disinterested and express to them in a bored and disinterested manner that you just don't want to pay $20 cover to get in; can he not give us a deal?  Also, we don't want to wait in line.  It's useful to bring young good-looking people around when you engage in such negotiations. I doubt I would have gotten very far on my own with my rural sensibilities and my grey hairs.

This, however, is pretty much our second home in Toronto:

Galleria

The Galleria is one of many Korean grocery stores which are the size of T&Ts and Loblaws but devoted entirely to only Korean groceries.  Considering the fact that I come from a town where I am the only Korean and the only grocery store in town is about the size of the Galleria's produce section, it's pretty easy to be dazzled.

It was a whirlwind 24 hours where I managed to squeeze in sushi, karaoke, clubbing, and grocery shopping.  My list will be much longer the next time I come back to Toronto (whenever that will be), but hopefully I'll be in town for more than a day.

a survey of Canadian cities in seven days: Calgary

Continuing my stories of each Canadian city I visited during my seven day sprint across the country:

My entire time in Calgary was spent at the airport.

My stop in Calgary on the way to my destination was very different from my stop on the way back.

On the way out:

When I landed in Calgary, it was my first time down south below the 60th parallel in six months. I almost felt like a prisoner who had been granted furlough. Maybe I have been watching too much Orange is the New Black.

I have one hour to find something to eat (because Air Canada won't feed us) and something to read that is better than this legal textbook I brought along from some reason. But it's overwhelming, all the choices. There are so many people here. People trying to sell you credit cards. People not smiling at you when you pass.  People speaking Korean! For the last few months I have been only speaking Korean to myself, usually in the context of swearing under my breath.

Finally I had something to eat and read: Tim Horton's and Shape Magazine, because Jillian Michaels did a nude photoshoot for this month's issue as a celebration of turning 40. There's something about reading Jillian's work-out routine while eating a hash brown. I have very complicated feelings towards Jillian Michaels, wavering between annoyance and admiration, somewhat like how I felt towards my piano teachers who made me practice for hours.

On the way back:

On my way back up north, I feel like things keep going wrong, tiny irritations that are insignificant on their own, but cumulatively amounting to what seems like a bad omen for this part of my trip.  Somewhat takes the last Starbucks salad that I had been hoping to buy. I get a manicure that is wrecked immediately when I scrape my nails against my purse.  The security line is ridiculously long.  Still, I remind myself that at least I got a manicure, that I can get a Tim Horton's coffee instead (my last one before I go back up north), and soon I will be in Yellowknife with a whole afternoon of shopping and exploring ahead of me.

mani-pedi time

my last Tim Horton's, and my new nails

And then there was a flight.

Because I have been on like five plans in the last six days and I still have many more to go, I sleep right through the take off. Even in my sleep though, I can feel a certain rockiness that I'm not used to, and a continuous whirring humming sound that does not sound right, and I am pulled from my nap.

Then there is an announcement from the pilot.  Unfortunately, I am still only half awake and the pilot has a very soft voice, so I can only make out part of what he is saying is that something is wrong and we are going to have to fly back to Calgary - not that we've really gotten very far out of it.

The flight attendant makes her way down the aisle, a calm smile on her face, offering cold beverages.

I casually turned my head to the man sitting next to me, who is also trying to act totally casual. He is flying north for the first time in his life.  I ask him if he understood what the pilot said. He shakes his head.

Then the pilot makes another announcement, his voice still frustratingly soft as ever, and we try to make out more words.  We are able to make out that the landing gears are stuck, but it is unclear as to whether they are stuck up or in the down position. We are going to fly over the control tower at the Calgary airport, who will make a visual assessment of where the faulty landing gear is at. Then we are going to attempt an abnormal landing, but, he assures us, all according to standard procedure.

I have a seat that is right over the wing.

People are talking quietly on the plane, while the cheerful flight attendant continues to offer drinks down the aisle. You know, we say to each other, it's not so bad if the landing gear is stuck down, because we'll be able to land and the mechanics will fix it.

None of us ask the question of what will happen if the landing gear is stuck in the up position and can't be deployed.

The pilot makes another announcement, simply noting that we'll be flying in circles for a little bit to burn off some fuel.

They don't tell us this, but the reason we're doing this is because it's dangerous to try to landing with a full fuel tank because things might go all explodey in flames. Do you know why I know this? Do you know that this exact same thing happened to me last year? Our landing gear got stuck and we had to circle around Yellowknife for hours and hours to burn off fuel before we could land.  That time, I also had a window seat over the wing and could see the malfunctioning landing gear stuck. I decided ever since then that I don't like window seats over the wing. I don't like having a front row seat's view of what is going wrong.

Well, here we were again, except that we're not on a propellor plane and no one can see whether the landing gear is up or down.  We don't know for sure how this flight will end.

Moments like this give you a sense of clarity about how you feel about your life.  You realize what is important to you, and what you regret.  Me, I was thinking that if I was going to die, that would probably suck but it could certainly be worse.  I am thankful that  I don't have that many regrets. My loved ones know that I love them. I have led an interesting life so far.  However, one thing was gnawing at the back of my mind: my Facebook profile photo was currently of me, as a child, stealing a popsicle from my baby cousin.  I wasn't sure that was how I wanted the world to remember me, forever and ever.

I realize that I have chewed right through my freshly polished nails.

The pilot comes on the PA again to let us know that we are going to attempt an abnormal landing, but it will all be according to standard procedure. He tells us there will be emergency vehicles waiting for us on the runway, but that is all just standard procedure. I wonder what is an abnormal landing according to standard procedure.

I still have trouble understanding clearly what the pilot is saying, but I take comfort in the fact that they aren't telling us to assume the brace position in case of a crash.  Which is good, because I never understood how you can assume the brace position when the seats are all so cramped and you don't actually have room to tuck your head between your knees.  I do wonder though, what is going through people's minds.  You don't want to panic too early, because if it turns out you're not going to die, you're just gonna look like an idiot.  But is there an acceptable point at which you know you are going to die and you call that person you love and leave them a message telling them you love them? But what an awkward message that would be if you didn't die after all.

I thought about a friend who told me that during the last earthquake in Ottawa, he was at his office. When the walls started shaking, he stood up abruptly and announced to his coworkers,  "I just want you all to know that I like most of you."

emergency vehicles

By the time I finished thinking all these thoughts, we had actually landed - very smoothly, actually - and as it turned out, the landing gears were stuck in the down position, thank God.  The emergency vehicles were all there on the runway waiting for us, but we were able to get off the plane without a fuss, where they handed us a $10 food voucher for any Air Canada flight as compensation for having to face our mortality.  Like I plan to fly Air Canada again any time again soon.

a survey of Canadian cities in seven days: Yellowknife

Last week, I went on a longish trip across Canada that involved flying to a bunch of Canadian communities in a short number of days. I didn't do this because I love airports; it's just the route that you need to take if you live in Cambridge Bay, Nunavut, and are visiting your home town Ottawa.

This week, I'll be sharing my impressions of each of the communities during my sprint across the country. Most of it will be about airports.

from the Yellowknife airport

It's interesting how the excitement of flying wears out fast. It's amazing how you get used to the idea of loading into a small propellor plane with only a handful of other passengers, a flight that costs thousands of dollars, the knowledge that more or less every major northern airline has had a crash at some point, and that this land is mostly nothing but empty spaces of wilderness.

Or really, just the idea that you are flying. In the clouds. Above the birds. You forget.

The flight attendant tells us about the on-board amenities which includes individual reading lights. This makes me laugh because nobody in the north has seen the night in weeks.  The amenities I like the most about northern airlines is the food, because it's kind of always a surprise. Sometimes they'll give you a bag of chips. Sometimes they'll serve you roast beef & monterey jack cheese with caramelized onions on whole wheat bread...what?

Finally I arrive in Yellowknife.  Yellowknife, this magical place in the "North" which has things like forest fires, which are caused by flaming ravens like out of a grisly Edgar Allan Poe, which happens so often that there is a Twitter account dedicated to YK power outages.

13 days since our last power outage. #yzf
— YK Power Outage (@OutageYK) July 6, 2014

I met up with my friend who was wearing a refreshingly brightly coloured sun dress, and we enjoyed the warm summer air on the patio of the Wildcat Cafe. The cafe has communal seating, so we sat with a few older gentlemen from Vancouver who were having the exact opposite experience of me: while I was excited to be down south in a place so warm, they were amazed at being up north in a place that was cold.

It had been a long time since I was able to dine on a patio. We sipped beers and ate pulled pork pogos under the warm sun while sailboats and paddle boarders passed by on the lake. I got my first mosquito bite of the year.  Like I said, Yellowknife always seems like a magical place.

Stand up paddlboard with dog

pulled pork pogos

On my way back from Yellowknife, I had arrived three hours late and was sprinting to finish all the things I needed to get down while in town: mainly shopping.  I didn't have much time before the stores were going to close. I jumped into a cab and convinced him to take me to all the places I needed: McDonalds for a half dozen cheeseburgers and Big Macs (it is bad etiquette to return to Cambridge Bay empty-handed without gifts for your friends), cigarettes for my partner, alcohol and groceries.  Unfortunately I realized that leaving the latter three shopping trips to this part of my journey was not a good idea.  Cigarettes and booze are still pretty expensive in Yellowknife. And grocery stores, while still bigger than in Cambridge Bay, still have a limited selection compared to what you can get in Ottawa or Calgary.  It probably would have been better to do my grocery shopping further down south. 

Still, I managed to get what I needed to get done and enjoyed a late night dinner at the Trapline Lounge in the Explorer Hotel, where the bartender was playing the Pains of the Being Pure at Heart on her iPod, which was a great way to unwind after a long day of traveling and shopping. 

fun fact: the last fast food meal that people eat before going up north is often Quizno's, the only restaurant in the Yellowknife airport